Erotic Romance-good stories, great plots, awesome sex

Hello, and welcome! I’m Katherine Rhodes- Author of erotica, light BDSM erotica and paranormal erotica. Lackadaisical Laundry Goddess. Expert in the profundities of bad movies and awful literature- of which I own too much. Especially, of late, I have become a smut whore. Is that possible? Well, if it is, I am. Go me! It’s not so bad though because I give back—in the form of more smut.

Which is why we’re here. Erotic Romance—good stories, great plots, awesome sex. Of course, if you’re as lucky as I am, you get super bizarre dreams to go along with that. For some reason, last night I had a doozie and it still hasn’t left me. I simply refer to it as my Erotic Ninja Suspense starring John Goodman.

No offence, John, but I’m *REALLY* glad the part with you was not erotic. You were an awesome protector for me before I, literally, came into my ninja powers. And fear not, I have it written down and I will turn that into a story in the future. It really was a fascinating idea.

But that’s what happens. I use a lot of things that come to me in my dreams. I’ve always had crazy ones, which is intensified by my one medicine. (Honest! The side effect is “vivid and disturbing dreams”). So when the two come crashing together—sh*t get weird and I end up a ninja.

Not that I mind being a ninja.

I like writing crazy stories, like that, but I also write straight fiction- as in not paranormal. It’s more of a challenge for me because reality has finite rules that have to be followed. And I like a challenge. I think that I did a pretty good job with my first two novels—“Consensual” and “Broken Bonds”. I enjoyed having to stay away from the paranormal as a rule, and I plan on staying away for a few more books. I also enjoy the humor I’ve found in some of my characters, and I’ll be expanding that a bit more. Very soon.

In the meanwhile, please—enjoy a brief glimpse of normality that offer up once in a while!

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Consensual: A Club Imperial Novel

Book 1

From the moment Nathaniel laid eyes on Emmy Westerly, he wanted her in his life. He would do anything to get her there and keep her there. To his surprise, Nathaniel found himself quickly pulled into Emmy’s dark world of whips and blindfolds, kink and submission. He was intrigued not only by the thrill of it, but by the enigma which led Emmy there as well.
Emmy could not resist Nathaniel Walsh. She couldn’t deny the electricity between them, the utter animal magnetism she felt for him. Emmy was mystified by someone as honest and uncomplicated as Nathaniel allowing her to lead him into the dark. She adored having him at the tip of her lash.
But Emmy had secrets – deep, cruel truths which led her to Club Imperial, and staying with Nathaniel would mean telling him everything. He wasn’t ready for that.
Neither was she.

Excerpt:

“My Domme doesn’t just come out in the bedroom,” Emmy said, low.

“I know,” Nathaniel said. “That’s how you got me to answer the phone.”

She enjoyed the slightly peppery eggs in a comfortable silence. This felt so…normal, sitting next to him eating breakfast. And, he was a good cook to boot. If she had tried to cook this it would have been a burnt mess. “Who taught you how to work wonders in the kitchen?” she asked.

“Mom,” he said, swallowing the mouthful. “She made sure Victor and I could survive. Well. I make a wicked mac and cheese. Victor’s specialty is grilled cheese.”

“Grilled cheese?” she asked. “How is that a specialty?”

“Says the woman who just declared she can’t cook,” he said. “I’ll have him make you one, one day. It’s indescribable, and I make a tomato soup that goes great with it. We used to make it for soggy Saturday lunches.”

She stared at him, and he had the look of a happy childhood on his face. It was much better than the angry, lost look from earlier when he was talking about the girlfriend. She also felt a pang of jealously that he had such a great childhood instead of the confusions and bullshit of her own. Ugh, Boston.

She cleared her throat and stared hard at her last pancake. “I have to go to the club tonight.” Let’s see how he takes it.

Nathaniel’s fork froze for a moment, and then resumed. “I, uh…” He stuffed the forkful of food in his mouth to buy himself a moment. He chewed slowly and looked at her. “Do you have to?” he asked.

“There’s a list of clients lined up,” she answered.

He scratched the back of his head, mussing his own hair. “I would like to think if we’re going to be…whatever this is…you would give up the club.”

“But what are we?” she asked.

“I’d like to think maybe you were my girlfriend.”

“I’d like to think maybe you were my sub,” she replied, gently. “We’re too new to figure this out, Nathaniel. And I can’t give up the club. Not immediately.” She glanced over at him, and the look of sadness nearly broke her heart. “I would consider it at some point. Remember, this is who I am, and I enjoy it.”

He took a sip of coffee. “If I were to agree to this, what are the limits of the Domme/sub stuff? I run a major corporation, and you’re my brother’s admin. I can’t have you snapping at me in the office.”

“First, I don’t snap unless I’m angry,” she said. “Second, the limits are this apartment, except in the dark room. It’s about control in a controlled environment. I would expect submission and compliance with all requests, but not to the point where we can’t have a good conversation. Like, when I just told you to come eat, you didn’t. There would have been punishment meted out.”

“Punishment?” he asked, clearly curious.

“For so minor an infraction, probably a few swats with a crop or a paddle. Probably more as a tease than a real punishment.”

“Oh.” He picked up another piece of bacon and chewed on that. “What’s the dark room?”

“You’re not ready for that yet,” she said.

“Yeah, but what is it?”

She smirked. “That impertinence would have earned you a few more swats.” She took a sip of the juice. “It’s where we really play. The whips and chains and cuffs.” She paused. “And more. It’s a very dangerous room, and if we go in there, I expect complete and total obedience with any direction I give. I can do amazing things for you, for us, in there but I need complete submission.” She was getting a little warm just thinking about what she wanted to do to him, if they ever really got into that room. For now, if he wanted to try it out, she would take anything she needed out of there.

“Can you really turn it off like that?” he asked.

“Did you have any idea before you found out last night?”

“No,” he answered.

“It’s all about control.” She smiled at him. “Learning and knowing your limits.” She pushed the plate away. “Like knowing I’m completely full from this amazing morning feast you’ve concocted. You’re going to make me fat if you keep feeding me like that.”

“That’s a pretty typical Saturday morning breakfast for me.” He smiled. “Especially when I had such an interesting and energetic Friday evening.”

Oh, it’s like that, is it? She looked at him, schooling her features. “That was hardly a work out.”

“Not for you,” he said. “Your back was against the wall.”

“Yes, I rather liked that,” she said.

“So did I. I also remember an idle threat about a tie…”

“Idle threat?” she asked. “You think I make idle threats?”

“All week, Emmy,” he said.

She could hear the playful tone in his voice. She was definitely feeling mischievous so she turned on the barstool and looked at him sitting there shirtless. “You would like to keep that tie, Mister Walsh?”

“If you can fulfill your threats, Miss Westerly.”

“Hmm…” She hopped off the stool. Looking him up and down, she considered a moment. “A little bondage goes a long way.” She crooked her finger at him and started walking down the hall.

“The food’s getting cold,” he called.

She stopped and looked at him. She crooked her finger again. “Come.”

“Yes, please,” he said, leaving the stool and padding after her.

She walked into the bedroom and found the tie on the headboard. Damn. Charvet silk. She was a little astonished he was willing to play with such an expensive tie. Emmy liked the way it felt in her hands. He walked in slowly, and looked around. She liked his trepidation, and ran the tie through her hands again. Wrapping it around the back of his neck, she pulled him close. “If you agree to this, in here you will call me Mistress.”

“Just in here?”

“When we are doing anything sexual,” she breathed. She paused and looked at the ends of the tie in her hand. “You’re not mine yet, Nathaniel,” she said. “No still works; stop still works. Are you sure you want this?” She watched his eyes sparkle at her as they darkened.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Oh. She let her breath out and felt her heat pooling. She quickly grabbed his arms by the wrist and using the smaller end of the tie, trussed his hands together firmly. He gasped at her deft move; she suspected he didn’t even realize she’d done it. “I told you I wanted to tie you up and fuck you, Mister Walsh. I wasn’t kidding.”

—————–

Broken Bonds: A Club Imperial Novel

Book 2

After the vicious attack on Emmy, Nathaniel has enlisted the help of his brother and Club Imperial’s owner to make sure her secret life doesn’t make the headlines, or interfere with the justice her attackers deserve. And to make matters worse, Emmy wakes up with absolutely no memory of what she has been through.
Recovering from her injuries at Nathaniel’s sprawling estate, Emmy deals with all of the changes in her world: new friends, a different lifestyle, a new boyfriend and a brand new threat.
With a simple phone call, her past crashes head-long into her present. Her mother suddenly reappears in her life and brings with her all the terrible things she thought she’d left behind. Old scars are ripped open and Emmy’s not sure she can survive the pain again.
She has to let Nathaniel go to protect him from the hell of her past…
But he’s not walking away.

Excerpt:

The car turned off the road to a paved driveway that disappeared through the trees. They wound through the greenish midday light and the trees disappeared from her side of the car to reveal Nathaniel’s North Hills estate. Her jaw dropped.

There were acres of manicured lawns between them and the house. There was a stand of trees half way there with a pond surrounded by carefully maintained cattails and native grasses that were starting to perk from their winter rest. She thought she saw a spigot in the middle for a fountain.

Beyond was an enormous white and brick Jacobean-style mansion. Three floors tall with huge windows over-looking the lawns, the front door was set back from the driveway, giving the house a u-shape to the front. There was tower—a tower—above the main entrance which rose to a fourth floor. The top of the house was lined with white cement railing and each of the two front wings had a parapet on the corners. She started counting chimneys and finally had to stop at twenty-five. As they drove further, she caught glimpses of the depth of the house, and there were more chimneys she hadn’t seen earlier. All of the windows were three panes wide and seemed to be floor to ceiling. Part of the back of the house looked newer, but had been added on in the style of the original. It had the traditional white puzzle cornering and there was some ivy on one wing, but it was carefully maintained.

Emmy looked at him. “Is there a ballroom?”

“Of course,” he said dismissively.

“You live in this?”

“Quite.” He smiled. “I’ll give you the whole tour when you’re feeling up to it. Your room is in the back overlooking one of the gardens and the pool house.”

“Pool house,” she mumbled. “You have a pool house.” She turned back and pressed her hand to the window. “It looks like Hatfield House.”

With that thought, the pang of loss hit her so hard she had tears streaming down her cheeks before she even realized what was going on. It had been years since she had thought about Hatfield House and the sudden realization that it was the last time she saw her father was like a bolt of lightning.

She tried, she really did. But she couldn’t stop the gasps and hiccups that went along with the emotion. She looked at him. “You want to know more about me? The last time I saw my father was at Hatfield House outside of London. We were there for a benefit to try and save the Ukrainian Symphony Orchestra. He was there with Sarinya and had just proposed to her. I left the next day to go back to Boston, and he was killed in a car accident three months later, after playing out the season with the London Symphony. They were going to see Sarinya’s family for holiday, and he never made it.”

He just held her a moment while letting her cry. “I’m so sorry, Emmy.”

“I didn’t think a stupid house could do this to me,” she said, smearing the tears away indelicately. “I mean, I like your house, I just didn’t think it was going to make me think of my dad and get me all worked up like this.”

“You have had a very traumatic two weeks, Em.” He tried to console her. “I suspect most anything will set you off.”

“I hate being emotional,” she hiccupped.

“I can’t imagine why.” He smiled at her.

She smiled back, starting to feel a little more balanced. “You have a beautiful house.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He lowered his voice and continued, “But you can’t go in the West Wing.”